


it's all on an incline

by iriswests



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Jealous Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), M/M, and then i take the reins so is it really, idk what else to tag i'm sorry i'm a thousand years old by now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27853250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iriswests/pseuds/iriswests
Summary: Albert moves in with Buck for a couple of months, and although no one else can see it, it’s affecting Eddie in subtle ways. Buck is determined to find the source of the issue, and after a couple of tense conversations and a near-death experience, instead discovers the people he would die for are the same people he chooses to live for.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 522





	it's all on an incline

**Author's Note:**

> hi, hello, long-time listener, first-time caller
> 
> quarantine was the worst thing to ever happen to me in my life because i rewatched all of 911 and suddenly i’m a lot more invested in these two than i thought i would ever be. i forgot how painful it is to ship a couple that may never be canon because the writers are all, “we love your interpretation!” and then keep scripting all these _moments_ between them like they don’t know exactly what they’re doing. thanks! i hate it!
> 
> i do love evan buckley, though. with all my heart. that’s him! that’s my favorite white boy!!
> 
> anyway, nothing really _happens_ in this story, even though it’s like, twenty thousand words. there are a lot of feelings and Moments and idk. this is also not beta’d, so all mistakes are my own. enjoy??? maybe???

When Buck finds out Maddie’s pregnant, two things inherently change:

One, he’s a lot more aware of any and all kinds of stress his sister is under. When she looks particularly tired on a night when he’s invited over to her and Chim’s place for dinner, he’s now the one who scolds her for overworking and not taking care of herself properly. This, of course, results in Maddie glaring daggers at him and mostly a lot of bickering, but despite this, he can tell Maddie’s – if not _pleased_ , then certainly flattered with Buck’s fussing, and in turn, this makes Buck puff with pride because for _once_ , he’s the caretaker. For once, he’s not the one being looked after.

Two, Albert becomes a much more permanent fixture in all their lives. Upon hearing the news that he, too, will be an uncle, he devices a plan that involves sticking around what he claims is a much more stable family than his own back in Seoul, and he even moves out of Chim’s couch to show his newfound maturity and graduates to Buck’s, to completely invalidate this. Still, he promises Buck it’s not for long. A room vacancy’s about to open up in an apartment he’s been eyeing, and if all goes well, he’ll only be “intruding on Buck’s kindness” for two, maybe three months.

Buck assures him he’s not intruding on anything: it’ll be nice to have someone to come home to, even if it is just a roommate.

“Fair warning, though,” he tells Albert, as they’re all hanging around the firehouse, Chim looking between the two of them incredulously. “I may not be home every night. Christopher’s a very demanding best friend, and the role involves sleepovers more often than not.”

Albert grins. “Does that mean I get to use your bed those nights?”

Buck narrows his eyes. “For what?”

Chim snickers. “You’re an adult. I’m sure you can guess.”

Buck wrinkles his nose. “No using my bed for freaky stuff. Only rule.”

“Your couch is fair game, though?”

Buck grunts. He’s forgotten what living with roommates can be like. “If at all possible, go back to their place. That couch is sacred. Chris sits there and plays video games with me, man.”

Albert thinks on this. “That’s fair,” he nods. “Addendum: what if the freaky stuff involves the two of us?” He waggles his eyebrows at Buck.

Before Buck can reply, they hear choking from across the room where Eddie sits on the couch. Alarmed, Buck stands from the dining chair, trying to get a clearer view of his best friend. He’s holding a bottled water in one hand and pounding on his chest with the other, attempting to cough through what Buck can only assume is water gone the wrong way down.

“You okay, man?” Buck calls out, and Eddie simply flips him off. Buck grins and sits back down, satisfied. “He’s fine.”

Chimney’s gaze stays on Eddie’s coughing for a second longer, before he turns back to Albert. “Don’t flirt with my coworkers.”

Albert raises an eyebrow at his brother. “I thought they were your family.”

Chimney blinks at him. “How does that make it better?”

Albert shrugs, and Buck grins at Chimney.

“He can’t help that I have that effect on people, Chim,” Buck leans back smugly. “People flirt with me whether they want to or not.”

Chimney rolls his eyes as Albert laughs, patting Buck’s thigh. “But I definitely wanted to.”

“Of course you did,” Buck winks at him, and Chimney groans and turns back to the fridge.

“I hate this already.”

Buck holds out a fist for Albert, who bumps it without a second thought.

He chances a glance towards the couches, to make sure Eddie’s done with his coughing fit, and he ends up meeting the other’s gaze.

Eddie’s frowning. Buck frowns back, almost automatically.

Eddie blinks out of what seems to have been a temporary stupor, then rolls his eyes at Buck good-naturedly. Buck offers his best friend a wide grin before turning back to Albert, slapping him twice on the back amiably. “Alright,” he replies, finally. “Welcome aboard, Chim Junior.”

Albert frowns. “I don’t think I like that at all.”

Chimney glances back at them, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Shouldn’t’ve told him that.”

\--

It’s not that big of a deal, to move Albert in. Considering the bulk of his things managed to fit in a single duffle bag, what took the longest seemed to be finding him a key ring so that he didn’t lose the house key Buck had made a copy of. He’s a lot neater than the roommates Buck’s had before, and, if he’s being honest with himself, he’s probably a better roommate than Buck’s ever been.

(Chimney denies this, says they’re both pretty on par with each other, but Buck’s willing to bet that’s the sibling bitterness talking more so than facts, so he’s sticking to his truth, thanks.)

There are three things being factored into Buck’s “okay roommate” meter: Albert doesn’t leave his shoes lying where Buck can trip over them, Albert hasn’t set the microwave on fire (not even once!), and Albert doesn’t snore.

All three things Buck counts as a win, seeing as his experience in the past has left him sort of traumatized. The bar is so, so low.

Life goes on. Not a lot changes for Buck, or for Albert, for that matter: the kid finds a job as a waiter soon enough (“Just while I figure out what I want to do with my life,” he’d explained to Buck, who hadn’t asked, but supported him nonetheless), finds his own social life. Buck’s not surprised: he’s twenty and for the first time in his life, he has no one to appease, no one’s permission to seek. Buck doesn’t say anything when he pointedly ignores calls on his phone; lets it go, because it’s none of his business.

And he knows better than anyone what a rocky relationship with parents can look like.

So life goes on. Buck continues to do his thing, Albert finds his own rhythm. Sometimes, they’ll have nights where neither of them made plans and they just – coexist, easily. They’ll have a drink, watch TV, maybe talk about everything and nothing at all. It’s a casual sort of companionship that Buck can appreciate, if only because it’s low-key and there’s no _pressure_ , not to be interesting, not to perform. Albert’s just trying to get through the day – Buck can relate, and that makes them good roommates and better friends.

Life goes on.

Life – goes on.

Except.

Here’s the weird thing:

Eddie’s been kind of – strange, lately. Not in any notable or obvious way, not to anyone else; he and Buck still get along fine, and Buck hasn’t let up on his visits with Christopher, and they hang out, like, the normal amount they usually do. Work isn’t weird, their partnership works on the field as smoothly as ever, and no one spares them a second glance, because for all intents and purposes, they’re _fine_.

But it’s the small things Buck notices. Things like how Eddie tends to hang around less sometimes; he makes a quiet exit with a solid excuse, like needing to use the bathroom if they’re at the firehouse, or needing to get home to his son on a night out, or anything that doesn’t warrant a second thought, not for anyone else. When he doesn’t have an excuse, he’ll simply go quiet, though he’ll laugh at the right time, make the appropriate sounds of appraisal when needed; he’ll be engaged in the conversation at a very minimal level, but no one will call it out, because it’s not _unlike_ Eddie to only speak when spoken to some days. But Buck picks at the nuances, at the patterns, and it’s not so obvious. It’s so subtle there’s barely a shift, but there _is_ a shift.

It’s like Buck’s suddenly walking on an imperceptible incline, and it’s throwing him off balance.

He doesn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding crazy. He knows no one else has noticed – he knows Hen will probably try her best to humor him, but then say something about Buck _projecting_ or something (which, no, okay, he thought about that already, but he doesn’t know _what_ he’d be projecting this time), Chim would find a way to awkwardly pawn him off to Maddie, and Maddie—

Well, Maddie’s pregnant, so she’d get emotional about the fact that this is bothering Buck so much, and maybe that’s just not the best idea right now. The less stress for his sister, the better.

And it feels weird broaching the subject with Bobby or Athena, because it seems so insignificant compared with what they already have to deal with, what with Michael’s tumor and the tension in their home after May’s announcement that she would not, in fact, be attending USC this fall: or any fall, for that matter.

The only person he can think to talk about his worries is the person his worries are _about_ , and that’s the crux of the whole thing, isn’t it? It’s about Eddie, but Eddie’s become the person he goes to for everything, so who does that leave him with?

It’s one in the morning and he’s thoroughly drunk on his couch with some random comedy show on television when he decides to try Albert on for size.

“I think there’s something wrong with Eddie,” he begins unprompted, and Albert looks over at him, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Really?” he frowns. “What makes you say that?”

“Ugh,” Buck rubs at his face tiredly. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”

Albert snorts. “Why?”

“Because I can’t explain it,” he admits. “There’s just something – off. I know him, right? I know him really well by now, and it’s just – small things, really, things I can’t explain, but I’m trying to find the source of the issue and—” Buck grunts. “I can’t.”

“Hm,” Albert is quiet for a moment. “I wish I could help you, but I don’t know him all that well.” He pauses. “Actually, other than my first few weeks here, I haven’t exchanged more than two words with him, I don’t think.”

Buck furrows his brows. “Wait, really?”

Albert nods. “I guess we keep missing each other.”

Buck considers this. “I guess so,” he mutters.

“Or he doesn’t like me.”

Buck blinks at Albert, surprised. “What?”

“Maybe he doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true. Eddie likes you.”

“Does he?” Albert tilts his head at Buck curiously. “Because it certainly feels like he might not.”

“He likes you,” Buck says with finality, and Albert drops it.

But then:

 _Does_ Eddie like Albert, actually? Now that Buck thinks about it, he can’t think of the last time Eddie was in the same room as Albert. And when he _is_ , it’s during one of those times where he just up and leaves, or doesn’t engage as much in the conversation. The other day, he’d come over to Buck’s sans Christopher (who was sleeping over at his Abuela’s), just to have dinner, shoot the shit, their usual plans (since Eddie’s an old man and doesn’t appreciate bars as often anymore), and he usually stays late those days, late enough so that Buck sometimes worries about him driving back home so late at night, and sometimes that leads to him staying the night, but that night—

Buck remembers they were in the middle of a fit of laughter brought about by Eddie’s complete inability to pronounce the word “hypothesis” and Buck’s many attempts to get him to say it correctly, when Albert had walked in and Eddie, though not immediately, sobered pretty quickly after.

Buck couldn’t even offer Eddie to stay the night: it was only ten at night when he’d decided to call it.

Is the common denominator _Albert_?

It stays with him when he goes to bed at night. Keeps him up for a little while longer than usual. If the problem is Albert, then that’s not something Buck can exactly fix, right? Albert, for all intents and purposes, is a good dude. Eddie had taken him to a baseball game once, even. It doesn’t make _sense_ that it would be Albert, yet the pattern stays consistent and says otherwise as he turns the instances he remembers over and over in his head.

He tries to approach the subject at first when he’s over at the Diaz household for dinner, but the timing seems off every time. Mostly due to the fact that Christopher is there, continuously so, and it’s just not a subject he thinks he should approach with the kid talking to him very seriously about his fear of bears.

“That’s silly, isn’t it?” Chris frowns, and Buck shakes his head heartily.

“What, being scared of bears? Absolutely not,” he says. “That’s the most rational fear anyone could have. They’re big and hungry all the time. They sleep all winter, too, so they’re super energized when you see them.”

Christopher giggles. “They don’t sleep all winter, Buck.”

Buck frowns. “They do, too. They hibernate. Bears hibernate.”

“They’re not _sleeping_ the whole time.”

“I—” Buck narrows his eyes. “Are you lying to me right now?”

Christopher shakes his head. “No.”

Buck glances over towards the kitchen entrance. “Eddie, are you telling me bears don’t _sleep_ all winter?”

Eddie pokes his head out of the kitchen, eyebrow raised. “You mean when they hibernate?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I thought that’s what hibernating _meant_.”

“It’s a fair assumption,” Eddie offers him, and Buck sighs dramatically.

“Been lied to. My whole life.”

Christopher is folded over in a fit of giggles, and Buck meets Eddie’s gaze again. It’s that soft, fond gaze he reserves for when he’s looking at Buck and Christopher together, and Buck basks in it for the few seconds it lasts before he’s offered an even softer smile and Eddie makes his way back inside the kitchen, presumably to finish cleaning up.

Buck orders his heart rate to steady as he turns back to Christopher, willing his face to stop warming. “Okay, smarty pants, even if they don’t sleep all winter, bears are big and scary. Totally valid fear.”

Christopher settles for a moment, thoughtful. “It’s just,” he pauses. “It just feels silly. I was scared of water first. But that made sense. And now I’m scared of bears. And that doesn’t make as much sense.”

Buck’s heart squeezes at Christopher’s contemplative expression – how easily he can bring up his previous fear of water, which was present for a couple of weeks after the tsunami, and how _brave_ this kid is, Buck thinks, to be so casual about such a catastrophic event that, for so long, left him with nightmares about his mother, nightmares about being lost and scared and alone. If Buck was half as brave as Christopher Diaz, he thinks, his world wouldn’t feel so askew all the time.

“Well, like I said. Makes total sense to me. Plus, at least you’re scared of an animal you have a chance of coming across,” he says, and Christopher makes a face. “Not that – you’re ever _going_ to, of course, pft, that’ll never happen, but I’m just saying – I—” Christopher stares at him. Buck sighs, defeated. “Listen,” he ruffles Christopher’s hair. “Everyone is scared of something,” Buck promises. “And it doesn’t always have to make sense. For example, _I’m_ deathly afraid of stingrays.”

Chris looks at Buck for a moment, before he breaks out into a grin and snickers. “ _Stingrays_ , Buck?”

“Hey,” Buck pokes Christopher’s side, feigning thorough offense, though it’s hard to keep the smile off his lips when Christopher giggles. “Stingrays are dangerous, okay? They killed one of the most beloved Australian personalities in the world!”

Christopher’s still laughing heartily, and Buck’s entire chest constricts with fondness for the kid. “Okay, Buck, if you say so.”

“I do say so,” he teases. “But the point is it’s _okay_ to be afraid of things, Chris. Water, bears, stingrays. You know that, right? Nobody is truly fearless.”

Christopher meets Buck’s eyes and offers him a small smile. “Not even dad?”

“Less so your dad,” he leans in and whispers conspiratorially. “Have you seen your dad around bumblebees? I’ve never seen a man run so far so fast.”

“Hey!” Eddie barks, peeking in from the kitchen again, and Chris breaks into another bout of giggles. “I’ll have you know I was _stung_ on the nose as a kid—”

“ _I’m_ sorry, have you been _eavesdropping_ , Eddie? That’s so rude,” Buck shakes his head in disappointment. “I expected better from you.”

Eddie glares at Buck, but there’s a softness to the edges of his expression that settles warmly in Buck’s chest, even more so when he glances between him and Christopher and he can _feel_ the fondness in Eddie, just like before, palpable as anything. “Why aren’t you helping me with the dishes again?”

Buck scoffs. “I cooked!”

“That can’t keep being the excuse every time. I swear you make a bigger mess every night.”

“Maybe I enjoy torturing you.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Eddie calls as he heads back into the kitchen with a backwards wave of his hand. Buck grins at Christopher.

“We can agree your dad’s fear is the lamest though, right?”

“Absolutely,” Chris nods seriously, and Buck brings him in for a tight hug.

“Good kid,” he says, and Chris snuggles closer to him, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“Thanks, Buck.”

Buck presses a soft kiss to Christopher’s head, feeling like a soft landing. “Anytime, buddy.”

When Eddie comes back into the living room, he pauses at the entrance, expression clearing when he realizes Chris has fallen asleep cuddled up to Buck on the couch, and Buck hasn’t dared move an inch since. He’s in possibly the most uncomfortable position he’s ever found himself in, but Christopher looks so comfortable, he’s afraid of waking him. The television’s playing softly in front of them, some Netflix cartoon Buck’s not really following, and he meets Eddie’s gaze a little sheepishly. “I know he’s supposed to brush his teeth first,” he whispers. “But come on, man. Can you blame me?” He gestures uselessly with the hand that’s wrapped around Christopher, and Eddie says nothing for a moment before blinking at his son, then back at Buck.

“No,” he huffs, rubbing at his neck. “He’s got you wrapped around his finger, you know that, right?”

Buck grins. “You might have mentioned it before.”

He shakes his head. “I gotta get him to bed, at least.”

Buck shakes his head, adjusting his position slightly so that he can get a better grasp on Christopher. “I got it,” he assures Eddie. Once he has a solid grip on the kid, he propels himself forward to stand from the couch, arms holding Chris steady. Christopher mumbles, and unconsciously wraps his arms around Buck’s neck, snuggling his face into Buck’s shoulder.

Buck rubs at Chris’s back as he nods over towards the hallway. “Open the door for me?”

It takes Eddie a moment to stop watching them with a sort of strange, strangled look on his face, but he eventually swallows and nods, turning around to walk towards the hallway and to Christopher’s bedroom. He opens the door and steps inside, readying the bed so that Buck can simply lay Christopher down and tuck him in. Christopher only stirs for a moment before sighing contently, wrapping his duvet closer to himself, and Buck smiles softly at the sight.

He turns Chris’s night light on – it’s one Buck gifted him for his most recent birthday, Batman themed that had made Christopher’s expression light up ten times brighter than the light itself – and then walks out with Eddie, turning the light off and closing the door behind him.

They both stand out in the hallway for a moment, taking a breath, and before Buck can think about approaching the – you know, the thing he’d wanted to talk about – he lets out an incredibly embarrassing yawn.

“Ugh,” Buck groans quietly, walking back towards the living room. “I should head out.”

“You can stay over,” Eddie offers, following Buck. “Unless, you – I mean, unless you have to get back to your loft.”

Buck looks over at Eddie, eyebrows raised. “To listen to Albert come home drunk at two in the morning and attempt to find the Britta pitcher? Sounds like fun,” he grins, and Eddie’s answering grin is a little brighter than it’s been for the past couple of weeks. It feels nice, Buck realizes. Balanced. “I don’t want to intrude, though.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re never intruding, Buck, you know that,” he insists. “We can go get breakfast in the morning, if you want. Carla’s picking Chris up early to go to the aquarium.”

Buck frowns. “Why can’t we go with them?”

Eddie laughs. “It’s Carla’s belated birthday present to him,” he explains. “Strictly a bonding session, she said.”

Buck smiles softly. It makes sense Carla’s taken to Christopher beyond a professional relationship: kid has that effect on people. He dares anyone to not melt around his infectiously bright personality.

Buck yawns again, then nods. “Okay,” he agrees, and Buck hadn’t noticed before, but Eddie’s shoulders are suddenly relaxed, like they’d been stiff for their entire exchange. Buck files that away for later. “Mind if I borrow—”

Eddie’s already walking towards his bedroom. “I got you.”

Eddie comes back with a sleep shirt, and Buck thanks him, turning around and stripping out of his own shirt. “It’s almost time for school to start up again, right?”

He’s slipping into Eddie’s shirt when he turns around, catches Eddie’s gaze quickly shifting to the clock over the television. “Uh,” he coughs. “Yeah,” he nods as the Buck finishes putting on the shirt. He moves on to stripping himself of his pants, glad he decided on boxers over briefs today. “He’s probably the only kid I know that’s excited to go back.”

Buck snorts. “If I was like him at that age? I’d love school, too,” he says, folding his jeans and setting them on the coffee table. “You know. Optimistic. Smart. Popular.”

Eddie meets his gaze again, something like amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re gonna tell me you weren’t Mr. Popular in school?”

“When I was _nine_?” Buck snorts. “Not me. Not the quiet kid with the Pokémon cards.”

“Fuck off with your Pokémon cards,” Eddie’s grin is blinding. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you a normal child who _didn’t_ need some sort of fictional world escapism method to cope?” Buck jokes. “Must have been nice.”

Eddie holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I just,” he shakes his head. “Can’t imagine you ever being the quiet kid, is all.”

Buck shrugs. “That changed in high school,” he admits, finally taking a seat back on the couch. “Middle school was fucking torture, too, but middle school is torture for most kids.”

Eddie nods, walking over to the coat closet now, that’s mostly filled with storage Eddie doesn’t know what to do with. He opens the door and reaches for some blankets on the top shelf. “I think I’ve got most of middle school blocked from memory.” Eddie walks back over, hands Buck the blankets he grabbed. Buck pointedly does not notice the way their fingers brush against each other’s. “I’ve been to war and I’m more afraid to go through middle school memories than I am Afghanistan.”

Buck laughs. “Fair,” he says. “I’m sure Chris’ll kill it in middle school, though.”

Eddie hums, fishes out a pillow from the closet now, tosses that over to Buck who catches is expertly. “Still got one more year before we find out, I guess.”

Buck fluffs the pillow before setting it against the armrest, unfolds the blankets. “Well,” he yawns. “I’m significantly bigger now than when I was eleven, so if he needs me to beat kids up for him, I’m perfectly capable.”

“Do _not_ tell him that,” Eddie warns, though there’s a hint of amusement to his tone. “I don’t want him taking you seriously.”

“Who says I’m not serious?” He grins, laying back on the couch under the blankets. “I’m not above fighting pre-teens if they’re picking on him.”

“I’m sure you’re not,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “So don’t tell him that.”

“I make no promises.”

Eddie sighs defeatedly. “Good night, Buck.”

Buck burrows deeper into the couch, closes his eyes. “G’night,” he mumbles. “Don’t forget to get him to brush his teeth before he leaves tomorrow,” he reminds Eddie through one final yawn.

It’s quiet for a moment, and Buck assumes Eddie must have already gone back to his room, but then the lights turn off and he hears a quiet, “I will”, and Buck allows sleep to take him under.

\--

Buck’s a deep sleeper, so he almost misses Christopher and Carla leaving for the morning. He would have, actually, if Chris hadn’t insisted on saying goodbye to him, tackling him with a big hug and waking him from a very nice, very abstract sort of dream. He’s a little muddled and a lot confused, but he manages to hug Christopher back and wave Carla goodbye before they walk out the door.

He drops his forearm over his eyes and groans, letting his head fall back on the pillow. He hears Eddie’s footsteps walk inside the kitchen, then back towards the living room. There’s a moment where Buck can feel Eddie watching him, probably judgmentally, until he finally walks over towards the couch and wraps his hands around Buck’s ankles over the blankets. He raises Buck’s legs and takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch, letting Buck’s feet land back on his lap.

Buck moves his arm out of the way and peeks at Eddie, who has a cup of coffee in his hands that he’s sipping nonchalantly, looking at the pictures on the wall opposite of them. Buck takes the opportunity to drink morning Eddie in, the Eddie with disheveled hair and pillow marks on the side of his face, and what can either be the glow of a good night’s sleep or the bags of a bad one, depending on the day.

Last night seemed to be a fitful one, it seems.

“What time is it?” Buck yawns, and Eddie glances over at the clock.

“Nine in the morning.”

Buck sighs loudly. “Too early.”

“Not at all.”

“Careful to judge me, Diaz,” he warns. “I can kick that coffee out of your hands.”

Eddie grins and looks over at Buck. “You want to go get breakfast?”

Buck almost declines out of pure pettiness, but then his stomach betrays him and growls in response. Eddie laughs and pats Buck’s knee sympathetically.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he says, sliding out of the couch easily and simply letting Buck’s legs fold over the couch. He squawks indignantly, but Eddie ignores him. “You can have it next.”

Buck grumbles incoherently, choosing to close his eyes and pointedly not think about Eddie in the shower, because that would be _weird_ , and _invasive_ , and _wrong_ , and not something he should be doing in the first place.

(He almost does it anyway.)

\--

There’s a diner near Eddie’s house they usually frequent with Chris in tow, but Buck supposes it’s not so bad when it’s just the two of them. They have non-conversations, like they sometimes do, wherein the subject is abstract but there is a point, somewhere.

He learns about Eddie’s life in elementary and high school, admits he was kind of a quiet kid sometimes, too, and he mentions in passing he doesn’t think he and Buck would have been friends in high school. Buck’s a little offended at that, but he’s probably right – high school Buck turned into an asshole.

Once fictional worlds were no longer fit for escapism, he chose instead to hide behind this popular-douche façade. He’d had acquaintances more than he’d had friends, and he spent most of his nights out and wishing his parents would ask after him. Instead, they’d only ever made it abundantly clear they didn’t really care, or worry. Maddie was out of the picture by then, and he’d felt – well – alone. Alone, was the word. And loneliness never suited someone like Buck, not really. So he turned to any company that was offered to him, and that was usually bad company.

He doesn’t tell Eddie all of this – instead picks and chooses some funny high school stories to tell him, and loves watching Eddie engage in his stories, ask questions, laugh at the appropriate time. It feels – like they’re _normal_ , like the world is aligning again, like Eddie’s not hiding this secret resentment from Buck that he just doesn’t understand.

At least, it feels that way for a bit, until he mentions a story involving Albert and him at a bar the other night, and then Eddie’s smile turns just the slightest bit dimmer, his expression just a little less engaged. Buck’s heart squeezes with worry and once again, he’s faced with the opportunity to bring up the question: what is it? Who is it? Is it me? Is it Albert?

Before he can muster up the courage, Eddie asks, “Have you told him about Abby?” And it throws everything off-kilter once more.

Hearing the name coming from Eddie’s lips isn’t familiar, but the tone of it is. Eddie’s said Abby’s name a total of four times since he saw her again. Twice at the train derailment, bitterness spewing as he spat it unpleasantly, once when he asked about her a week after she had a talk with Buck, with the same bitterness but less spit, and today, where the bitterness is a little more muted and the cadence of his tone is a little gentler, but there’s still something off about it, like he’s bringing it up out of obligation, more than want.

He gets it. Your best friend isn’t supposed to like the person who broke your heart. Buck had held a grudge against _Shannon_ , for Christ’s sake, even after she died, when he found out she’d asked Eddie for a divorce. It’s a natural occurrence, born out of the instinct to protect your strongest bonds and whatnot, so he never expected Eddie to be on board the Abby train – no pun intended.

Still, the question catches him off-guard, because to relate her back to _Albert_ of all people, and so suddenly, it feels – strange. Out of left field, and Buck stays quiet for a moment trying to process the question before he intelligently asks, “What?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Albert. Have you told him about Abby yet?”

“Why—” Buck frowns. “Why would I do that?”

Eddie tilts his head, and the furrow of his brows may look natural to a casual observer, but Buck sees the practice in the gesture. “I don’t know. Just figured it’s something you’d want to get off your chest.”

Buck opens his mouth, then closes it again, unsure of what that means. “I don’t have anything to get off my chest,” he decides to reply, though he can hear the confusion in his voice, clear as anything. “Abby – she’s gone, you know? That’s over.”

Eddie picks at the straw wrapper in front of him, studying it carefully with his gaze. Buck waits, not so patiently, for his next words. “You just never brought her up again.”

“There was nothing to bring up,” Buck insists. “I told you that.”

“You told me things were okay between the two of you,” Eddie corrects, and there’s a tenseness to his jaw that wasn’t there before when he meets Buck’s gaze again. “You never told me what that meant.”

“And so you thought – what?” Buck blinks. “That meant I still had things to get off my chest?”

Eddie simply looks at him.

“And you thought I’d just tell _Albert_ about them?”

Eddie sighs. “You left that entire subject very ambiguous, Buck. You said things were okay between the two of you now, then you never touched the subject of her again. I figure she’s up and gone again, but you never—” Eddie purses his lips distastefully. “You never told me how you felt, seeing her again.”

Buck looks out the window that sits beside their booth, large and looming and allowing the bright light of day to warm their skin, a nice contrast to the air conditioning blasting right above them. He _knows_ that, knows that he didn’t go into depth about Abby with Eddie, but – what was he supposed to say? She decided Buck was simply a blip on her radar, a pit stop to finding herself, while she’d been the first person he’d ever truly loved, his first real relationship? That to her, Buck had been a stepping stone, but to him, she’d been the entire bridge collapsing cruelly underneath his feet?

That she’d clearly meant more to him than he ever had to her, and when she came back and apologized, it wasn’t for the things Buck was aching to understand?

He’s _embarrassed_. He spent so long allowing her to take up space inside his head, time out of his day, and she’d probably stopped thinking about him as soon as her feet stepped onto foreign soil. And she didn’t promise him anything, he knows that, so he can hardly be bitter for expecting more, but—

Well, he is. Bitter, that is. So he tries to avoid the subject altogether, because he doesn’t like the feeling of bitterness on his tongue, the results of it in his actions.

“She apologized,” he finally says. “She moved on. I – hadn’t. I realized that as soon as I saw her, you know? She’d kept me – for so long, I was so wrapped up in her orbit, you know? So long that I never noticed when our frequencies changed,” he shrugs. “I didn’t realize she’d been out of range much longer than I thought.”

Eddie looks at him, and there’s sympathy in his expression which Buck _hates_ , because he’s over it, he is, and it’s embarrassing, to get this sort of sympathy. He spent months building up this woman to Eddie, he remembers, and he remembers Eddie’s teasing about her invisible role in his life, and that’s what sucks, essentially. Is that he was right. He was holding on to an idea, a memory, and he thought that when the time was right, the abstract would solidify and find a place back in his life, in his heart.

It didn’t. And that’s the way it goes, for Buck.

“I didn’t talk about her anymore because it’s just – over. It’s pretty fucking over, man,” he laughs, though there’s hardly any humor in it. “And, I don’t know. Why keep poking at a wound when it’s doing such a good job at closing itself up, you know?”

Eddie hums slightly. “You’re really into metaphors lately.”

Buck narrows his eyes. “Don’t be jealous of my out-of-the-box thinking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie’s smile is a little brighter than before now, even if it is still small. “I’m sorry.”

Buck furrows his brows. “For what?”

“For bringing her up,” he replies. “You don’t want to talk about her. I should respect that.”

Buck shrugs. “You were curious. That’s fair.”

“It’s not,” Eddie insists, and Buck has to meet his gaze again. This time, it’s hard and intense, like he’s trying to convey meaning not only with his words, but with his entire being. “You’re allowed to set boundaries and people should respect them. I’m part of people.”

Buck shakes his head. “You’re not just _part of people_.”

“Even more of a reason to expect respect from me,” Eddie says. “A friend shouldn’t push out of—” he pauses, like he’s thinking about his next words. “Out of curiosity.”

“It killed the cat, you know.”

“Graduated to idioms, I see,” Eddie grins. “Good one.”

“Your apology is accepted,” Buck promises. “Even though I still insist it’s unnecessary.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Of course you do,” he sighs, leans back against the booth and looks out the window. “You ever—” Eddie’s lips thin, as if he’s thought better about his question. “Never mind.”

Buck doesn’t push.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Buck says instead, and Eddie nods over at him. “Be right back.”

His trip to the bathroom is, of course, uneventful, and as he’s pushing open the door to return to the booth, his text tone chimes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens a text from Carla automatically, and grins at the content of the text.

It’s a picture. Buck grins at it — it’s a little shaky, and Buck’s sure it has a lot to do with the lighting at the aquarium, but it is pretty clearly Christopher brilliantly smiling next in front of a glass, next to a stingray. Buck huffs out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. This _kid_.

Without much pause, Buck strides back to their booth and slides in next to Eddie, practically shoving his phone into his best friend’s face.

“Your son is mocking me,” he quips, and Eddie looks confused for a second, leaning back slightly to get a better look at the screen. He breaks out into a grin when he takes a good look at the picture, then chuckles and looks over at Buck.

“Look at how much braver he is than you,” Eddie teases, and Buck tries to be offended, but then he looks at the picture again and he can’t help the fondness that washes over him. It means something to him, that Christopher thinks about him and their conversations even when he’s not around; means he’s at least a good part of the kid’s life, and Buck doesn’t have the luxury of being a good part of a lot of people’s lives. He could probably count on one hand the amount of people that think of him beyond a passing thought, and it’s just – nice, he thinks. He’s happy, because being a good part of Christopher’s life is an incredible honor, since that kid is mostly made up of just _good_. It means something.

In the midst of his internal monologue, he catches a glimpse of brunette curls through his peripheral and he blinks, perplexed, as he turns to the source.

There, a pretty young woman has been sitting across from them the whole time, where Buck had been sitting before he left for the bathroom, and Buck hadn’t even—

“Uh,” Buck glances at Eddie, nonplussed, then back at the woman. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she says, offering Buck a bright smile. “I get it. Christopher’s got that kind of gravitational pull to him.”

Something unpleasant tugs at Buck’s chest at how casually this woman mentions Christopher, like the knowledge of him and his whole being isn’t a gift, like she knows him because she knows how endearing he can be, even though that’s something anyone within a six-mile radius could figure out with a single look.

He must stay quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, because the woman’s smile begins to slip slightly and Eddie clears his throat, bringing Buck back from that bitter place he hates being in.

“Buck, this was Christopher’s English teacher, Ana,” he introduces, and oh. The pretty, brown-eyed teacher Eddie had chewed out that one time. Right. “Ana, this is my friend, Buck.”

“Oh,” Ana’s smile brightens again, along with her eyes. “You’re Buck.”

“Uh, yeah,” Buck glances at Eddie, who looks just as surprised as he feels. He holds out a hand towards Ana, already hearing Maddie nagging at him about manners, and Ana takes his hand and shakes it. “Sorry, have we met before?”

Ana takes her hand back. “Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “But Christopher talked about you a lot. He especially liked to tell the story of the tsunami.” Buck feels himself flush at the mention of what was, frankly, one of the worst fucking experiences of his life. “You were in a lot of his essays.”

Buck coughs into his fist, embarrassed. “Ah, well,” he shrugs. “Kids, am I right?”

Ana shrugs. “I don’t know. I find there’s always truth to kids’ stories. You come off very heroic, in any case.”

Buck wishes the ground could swallow him whole.

Eddie squeezes Buck’s shoulder. “He was,” he tells Ana, and what’s worse, it sounds like he means it. “I’ll never not be grateful to him.”

“Anyway, it was nice catching up,” Ana smiles at Eddie sweetly, and Buck doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so tired. “Maybe we can get together soon and do it again? Properly?”

Jesus, was she asking him out in front of Buck? Not that – there’s no reason why she _shouldn’t_ , or wouldn’t, obviously, because Buck’s just a friend, and there are – it’s just her forwardness. It’s impressive. That’s it.

Eddie smiles back at her. “Sure,” he agrees, and Buck is exhausted. “Soon.”

Ana nods, satisfied, then smiles over at Buck. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Buck replies automatically, and then Anna is sliding out of the booth with a to-go cup of coffee and walking out of the diner.

They’re silent for a moment as Buck looks back at the picture on his phone. He saves it, mostly to have something to do with his hands while he figures out what the _hell_ is wrong with him, and then slides out of the booth to take a seat back across from Eddie, their proximity making Buck too hot for comfort.

“Buck—”

“Your apology must have been epic,” he interrupts, because he doesn’t know what Eddie’s going to say, but his tone already sounds concerned. “If she could look past you chewing her head off that one time.”

Eddie studies Buck for a moment, searching for something in his expression, but here’s the good thing about Buck: he’s perfected schooling his expression into something neutral, something unbothersome, since the lawsuit. Since high school, if he’s really getting into it, but it was easy to hide for strangers, easier still for his parents, but as an adult it became harder to do so for his family – the family he chose, the 118. But he’s managed to find a balance again, so he knows his expression communicates polite interest and not the absolute cacophony of complicated fucking emotions exploding through his bloodstream: a mix of anger and sadness and tiredness and bitterness, feelings he can’t attribute to specific grievances, at least not where he sits now.

Eddie finally shrugs, when he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for in Buck. “It was only fair, you know? I was pretty hard on her.”

Yeah, Buck knows. He’s been on the receiving end of Eddie’s anger, has felt the brutality of his honesty cut through him like butter, the sting of his words for weeks and weeks after they first burn.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “Whatever you said, you left an impression.” He smiles as brightly as he’s able to. “So? When are you asking her out?”

Eddie looks at Buck for a second or two longer than should be appropriate. “I don’t know,” he finally says, and he sounds defeated. He looks over at the counter, eyes narrowed. “Why are they taking so long with our order?”

And just like that, the subject is dropped.

Buck never does find another opening to bring up Albert again.

\--

A week later, he’s in the car with Albert, on the way to Chim and Maddie’s. They’re hosting a casual dinner for the 118 and their friends and family to celebrate the fact that their baby had not, in fact, let its sex be known, so they were in the dark for another three weeks.

A weird celebration to be had, but any excuse to get together, Buck guesses.

Buck’s been making idle conversation, conversation that Albert’s been following half-heartedly, and they’re about ten minutes out of his sister’s place when he realizes Albert’s leg hasn’t stopped bouncing the entire ride.

“Everything alright?” Buck asks, and Albert glances at him, offers him a bright – if a little too bright – smile.

“Fine, why?”

“You look nervous,” Buck admits, and Albert sighs, looks back out the passenger window.

“I’m just—” he makes a face. “I don’t want to be a problem.”

Buck frowns. “Why would you be a problem?” he asks. “You didn’t knock someone up, did you?” He jokes. “Because this probably isn’t the best time to bring it up to them.”

“No,” Albert huffs a small laugh. “No, I just mean – Eddie, you know?”

At his best friend’s name, Buck glances over curiously at Albert, before turning back towards the road. “Eddie?”

“I know you don’t think he doesn’t like me,” he starts slowly. “But there’s always this weird – tension, even more so nowadays, and I don’t mean to start anything.”

“You’re not starting anything,” Buck assures him. “You’re not. Eddie’s just – you know, you usually catch him after a long shift, he’s almost always tired. It probably has nothing to do with you.” He doesn’t believe that himself, not anymore, but the last thing he needs is even _more_ tension. Besides, Buck plans on fixing this. He does. He’s going to bring it up to Eddie.

“I just – if he doesn’t like me,” Albert explains slowly. “What if Howard picks up on it? What if he starts questioning letting me stick around again?”

“Hey,” Buck furrows his brows. “That’s not gonna happen. Chim’s your brother, Albert.”

“But Eddie is his family,” he points out.

“Maybe,” Buck shrugs. “But family doesn’t always have to agree with each other. Not that that’s what’s happening here,” he amends quickly. “Because Eddie doesn’t dislike you. But, you know,” he sighs. “Chim’s coming around. You’ve both done so well at building this – this thing you didn’t have before, so. There’s nothing to be worried about,” Buck says. “I promise.”

Albert smiles a little easier at that, and Buck feels kind of like shit, because now he’s just promising things he’s not entirely sure he can deliver on, and he knows it’s shitty, to be on the receiving end of some of those. But that only means he’s gotta try a little harder to bring this up to Eddie – he can’t keep putting it off, making excuses, the same way he’s been doing.

So Buck decides to approach the subject next as delicately as he knows how to.

That is, in a room full of people.

Most of his time, once he and Albert have arrived at the get-together, is spent entertaining Chris and Denny, who have both decided Buck is to be their trick pony for the evening, and he’s not opposed to it – he never is, since the kids are delightful and he’s fond of both of them dearly – but eventually he has to step away because one, they’re more exhausting than a twenty-four hour shift and two, he’s been keeping an eye on Eddie, who’s been watching them from the same spot for about an hour, often catching Buck’s eye and smiling that ridiculous smile of his, the one that usually says, _you’re an idiot, but I appreciate you_ , the one that makes Buck’s insides go all – all – well, all over the place, really, and no, it’s not something he spends time looking too closely into, thank you very much.

Hen eventually walks over to them and insists Denny cool it on the monkey routine, telling him Buck needs to take a breath, too. Denny seems put out, but Chris manages to rope him into a puzzle game on his phone, and they finally sit down on the floor and allow Buck a breather. He looks at Hen and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” he says, and Hen laughs.

“Look at you. Twenty-eight and already worn out by a child.”

Buck gapes. “You _live_ with that kid,” he reminds her. “Now multiply him by two.”

Hen’s smile wavers a bit, and Buck almost physically flinches.

“Sorry,” he apologizes sincerely. “I know—”

Hen holds up a hand. “Karen and I are happy with our decision to foster,” she tells him. “You don’t apologize for making a joke.”

Buck looks at her for a second, before nodding his head, then looking back over at Eddie, who’s now deep in conversation with Athena. Buck bites the inside of his cheek, looks back at Hen, who’s been watching him intently.

Buck raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Is something going on between you two?” She asks, and it’s almost annoying, how she doesn’t have to specify who she’s referring to.

“No,” Buck replies quickly, then backtracks. “Well—”

He sighs. He knows why he hasn’t brought it up to Hen. But, at this point, it feels like an impossible feat to jump through alone. Eddie’s so subtle about his shifts in moods that it’s hard to find the right time to ask him about them, especially considering he hardly ever shifts when Buck is around. Buck keeps walking on an incline, but sometimes it feels like nothing but a nuisance, when he’s alone with Eddie.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “There’s something throwing me off.”

Hen hums sympathetically. “Trouble in paradise?”

“That’s the thing,” Buck replies. “There’s – not? Not really. He’s fine, most of the time, when we hang out alone, or when we’re with Chris. And at work – well, you know,” he gestures aimlessly. “Everything is fine.”

“But?”

Buck purses his lips. “Sometimes he’s – off,” he admits. “I can’t explain it. But sometimes he dims a little bit, pulls out of the conversation, leaves before he gets roped into something. And it’s not always a big deal, he could just be tired, but there’s something about it. I keep trying to find the common denominator, and—” Buck glances over to where Albert is, talking to Karen and cooing at the baby simultaneously. “It’s gonna sound ridiculous.”

“Buckaroo, mostly everything that happens to us sounds ridiculous,” she points out to him. “I can’t imagine you’re going to say something mind blowing right now. No offense.”

Buck bites his lip. “I think it’s Albert?”

He waits for Hen to laugh at him, but she doesn’t. She looks contemplative, now looking over at Albert and her wife, as well, and nods slowly.

“That makes sense,” she says, and Buck blinks at her.

“Wait, really?”

“I probably see them together the least,” Hen says, though it looks like she’d wanted to say something different. “Maybe they just didn’t hit it off.”

“That’s the thing, though, is that they did, at first,” he says. “Like, when he first got here? We all got along swimmingly. I think Eddie appreciated having someone so young just kind of, I don’t know, look up to him, or something. And then suddenly it’s like – he avoids him at every turn, you know? I’m trying to understand it.”

Hen is quiet for a moment. “Have you asked him about it?”

Buck shrugs. “I’ve tried,” he says. “It’s never the right time.”

They watch as Eddie excuses himself from his conversation with Athena after a quick exchange with Chimney, and he walks over to the empty kitchen.

“The right time doesn’t just happen, Buck,” she says. “You’ve got to make it the right time.”

Buck looks at her quizzically, and all she does is gesture towards the kitchen. Buck sighs, looks back at Christopher, then back at Hen.

“You mind looking after him?”

Hen rolls her eyes. “No, I think I’ll just let them set the house on fire.”

Buck grins. “You’re the best.” He pats her on the shoulder twice before making his way through the crowd and towards the kitchen.

Eddie’s reaching into the fridge and grabbing another beer – probably something Chim told him to go ahead and do, since the coolers are across the room and currently being used as chairs by people in seemingly Very Intense Conversations, and when he pulls back and closes the fridge, he catches Buck’s eye.

His smile is brilliant, as it usually is. “Hey,” he greets Buck, and Buck’s mouth is dry for a second.

“Hey yourself,” he leans against the counter, which allows Eddie to mirror him as he opens his beer. “I think Chris’s new passion might be wrestling.”

“Oh, that’s not new,” Eddie grins. “He’s definitely been working his way towards it.”

“He’s gonna have a successful career.”

“He might get his old man some early retirement,” Eddie teases. “It might be beneficial.”

Buck huffs a laugh, shakes his head. “I’m glad he’s having fun.”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the corner as he smiles. “Me, too.”

Buck takes a deep breath and repeats Hen’s words to himself. You make the right time. You make the right time.

Delicately, he tells himself.

“Do you not like Albert?”

He’s always been the king of subtlety.

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“Albert,” Buck repeats, but his tone’s a little weaker. “Do you not like him?”

Eddie frowns and takes a sip of his beer. When he replies, he doesn’t sound angry, or bothered, despite the words he chooses being: “Where the hell is this coming from? Did he say something?”

“No,” Buck amends quickly. “No, he likes you fine, and—” he hesitates. “You seemed to like him just fine when he first got here, too,” Buck points out, and Eddie is quiet as he takes another swig of his beer. His eyes are guarded, but his expression is thoughtful, like he’s considering Buck’s words carefully. Which makes little sense: not like Buck said anything untrue or complicated. That’s the beauty of Buck, if he does say so himself: most of what he says is uncomplicated, if a little exaggerated at times. (He appreciates a good hyperbole; it’s what got him through most of high school, after all.)

Once the beer parts from his lips, Eddie tuts quietly before glancing at Buck. “I still like him,” he says, and Buck knows he means it. “Just not as much as you seem to.”

To anyone else, Eddie’s tone of voice would be teasing, the superficial octave slightly above normal to constitute a good-natured rib between friends.

Buck is not anyone else. Buck catches the slight tick of Eddie’s jaw and the odd inflection when he rolls the vowels in _you_ , like it’s more an accusation than a statement. It gives Buck pause, makes his brows furrow in confusion, and he’s still trying to figure out where the sudden coldness icing Eddie’s shoulder is coming from when Maddie walks inside the kitchen, looking flustered.

“I can’t find the dip,” she announces, like she doesn’t expect either Buck or Eddie to understand her dilemma, but wants to inform them of it anyway. Buck exchanges an amused glance with Eddie, and it’s like the moment they were building towards a second ago passed without incident, like it never existed. “I made the dip and now I can’t find it.”

“The one served in the blue bowl?” Buck asks, and Maddie looks at him and sighs.

“It’s – more like teal than it is blue, but—”

“Because that’s the detail that’ll save the dip right now.”

Maddie glares, but it holds no heat. “Have you seen it?”

“I saw it about an hour ago,” Buck replies. “Amidst a sea of tortilla chips.”

Maddie looks confused, and Buck catches Eddie smiling through his peripheral in amusement.

“He’s trying to say it was put out already,” Eddie replies. “Probably long gone. Seemed to have been a hit.”

Maddie looks a cross between proud and exasperated. “Those were meant to be served twenty minutes before the meal, not an hour before.”

Buck blinks. “What the hell’s the difference?”

“It’s—” Maddie sighs. “There was an appetizer schedule.”

Buck blinks some more. “Mads—”

“No,” she holds up a finger. “Don’t judge my hosting.”

Buck holds up both hands defensively. “Wasn’t gonna.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Liar,” he coughs into his fist, and Buck punches his arm lightly, causing Eddie’s quiet laughter to turn into snickering.

Maddie narrows her eyes at them. “If you two are done flirting in here,” she says. “Do you mind helping me carry out the sandwiches?”

Buck raises an eyebrow. “The meal already? Maddie,” he holds a hand to his chest, mock-scandalized. “This schedule-jumping just isn’t like you.”

Maddie grabs the nearest utensil to her — which happens to be a spatula — and holds it up threateningly towards Buck. “I’m pregnant and hungry, Evan,” she warns. “I will not hesitate to use this.”

Buck laughs and walks past her, pressing a kiss to her temple as he does. “Don’t stress out my nephew,” he warns. “I want him to come into this world zen, relaxed, and aware of who his favorite uncle is.”

“Me, you mean.” Albert’s voice comes from across the island, the same wicked grin he entertains every day plastered on his face. Buck narrows his eyes and holds up two fingers to his own, then points them directly at Albert.

“Don’t make me fight you, Chim Junior.”

“How are you so sure it’s a boy, anyway?” Albert asks, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a sandwich platter off the counter. “My money’s on a beautiful mini-Maddie.”

Maddie coos. “Thank you, Albert.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “Suck-up.”

“Honest,” Albert corrects, winking at Buck. Buck can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of the gesture. “I’m kidding, though. We’ll be a great pair of uncles.”

Buck grins. “Hell yeah. Baby’s gonna be so spoiled.”

“We’ll make a great team,” Albert holds up a hand for a high-five, the other still balancing the platter expertly. Buck meets the palm of his hand with his own, and before he can reply, Eddie’s grabbing a platter of sandwiches and walking out of the kitchen, shoulders rigid. Buck frowns as his eyes follow after his friend, hand lowering slowly.

Albert catches the shift in mood and turns to watch Eddie’s disappearing figure as well. Maddie silently watches the entire exchange, eyes contemplative.

“Uh,” Buck purses his lips and looks at Albert. “He’s—”

Albert shakes his head. “Long shift,” he smiles at Buck, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I get it.”

They stand in awkward silence for a moment before Maddie clears her throat.

“Evan,” Maddie presses, not unkindly. Buck turns to her. She nods over to where Eddie is handing a confused-looking Chimney the sandwich platter. “You should—”

“Yeah,” Buck nods, smiling gratefully at her. “I’ll just—” he reaches for a platter, but Maddie shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “Go.”

Buck walks around the island and squeezes Albert’s shoulder reassuringly as he walks past him. He reaches Chimney, who’s now holding a platter of sandwiches, looking a little put out. He looks around, trying to spot Eddie, but doesn’t seem to find him. He turns over to Chim.

“Where’d Eddie go?”

Chimney gestures towards the hallways with his head. “Said he needed a minute,” he said. “I told him he could use the bedroom to take it, if he wanted.”

Buck frowns. “Thanks,” he says, but before he leaves, Chim stops him.

“Do you know why he handed me a plate of sandwiches, though?”

Buck looks at him, then the sandwiches, then back at him and grins. “Weren’t you hungry?”

Chim narrows his eyes. “You’re lying.”

“No shit,” Buck snorts. “He was helping Maddie carry them out,” he slaps his shoulder sympathetically. “Better get to it, bud.”

Chim swears under his breath and hustles right past Buck, leaving him free to make his way to the bedroom.

He knocks on the door and hears no reply, which he supposes means Eddie’s trying to pretend he’s not there, but that’s never been enough to deter Buck before, so he turns the knob and creaks the door open, peeking inside.

Eddie’s sitting on the bed, frowning as he scrolls through his phone, and he perks up at the sound of the door opening. He meets Buck’s gaze and immediately turns back to his phone, says nothing to him.

Buck feels like he’s missed a step.

He enters the room and closes the door behind him, stands there awkwardly for a moment. Neither of them says a thing: Eddie continues to sit on the bed and scroll lightning-quick through his phone and Buck guards the door like some loyal soldier, and it isn’t until the silence starts becoming truly _uncomfortable_ – something silence has never been before between the two of them – that Buck pipes up.

“So,” he starts, and Eddie glances at him. “What was that?”

Eddie scrolls. “What was what?”

Irritation tugs at Buck’s edges. “Albert,” he offers as an explanation, and the name is enough for Eddie’s jaw to clench for a second, then relax just as quickly, as if it’d never happened.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” Buck sighs. “You didn’t even say hi to him in the kitchen.”

Eddie looks up. “I said hi when he arrived,” he points out. “Didn’t know I had to say hi to him again.”

Buck shakes his head. “You were being rude,” he insists.

“I was not being rude, Buck.”

“ _Yes_ , you were.”

“I wasn’t,” Eddie replies, and this time, his voice is taut, like he’s having a harder time hiding whatever the fuck he thinks is worth hiding. “Maybe I just don’t have the same obsession for him that you do.”

The words hang between them tensely for a moment. They feel accusatory, bitter, and Buck can tell Eddie regrets saying them the second they’re out of his mouth, but that’s the crux of it: they _are_ out of his mouth. He’s spoken them out loud, and now they both have to listen to the silent reverb of them over and over, and Buck is stuck trying to figure out if he can reach them, understand where they’re coming from.

“That’s—” Buck’s voice cracks, because of course it does, because the words have surprised him out of a voice, apparently. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “He’s my roommate, Eddie. Not only that, he’s our _friend_.”

“Yes,” Eddie rubs at his face. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“I don’t know where this is coming from,” Buck admits slowly. “But it’s obviously affecting you, so it’s affecting me.”

“It’s not—” Eddie looks up at the ceiling, and Buck watches him try to gather himself. Probably something he picked up in actually-helpful therapy, Buck thinks bitterly. “It’s not affecting me at all.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Eddie looks at him, studies his expression. Buck watches as his gaze rakes over his stance, like he’s trying to figure out where Buck is at, mentally, emotionally, what he’s thinking. Buck, for his part, tries his best to give nothing away, because it’s not fair, he thinks, for Eddie to pick up his cues by what he thinks Buck might want to hear. Because this isn’t about Buck – or maybe it is, he doesn’t _know_ , and that’s the source of the issue, isn’t it?

“It’s none of your concern, alright?” Eddie finally replies, when he seems to be done studying Buck. Buck makes a face.

“You’re snapping at me.”

“Yes, because you’re annoying me.”

“There,” Buck points out, both physically with his index finger and with an accusatory tone. “There, see? This _is_ my concern when for some reason this is – this is making you lash out at me. At _me_. I don’t even know what I did _wrong_.” Buck takes a step inside the room, and Eddie leans back, like he’s afraid of Buck coming any closer. This gives him pause, hands dejectedly falling to his sides after attempting to reach out. “What did I do wrong, Ed?”

“Nothing, alright?” Eddie looks away, and for a second a look of shame flashes through his expression. “You did nothing.”

“Then what did Albert do wrong?” he presses, and Eddie seems to stiffen again. “He was nervous the whole way here, you know, because he thinks you hate him, or something, and he doesn’t like the idea that someone Chim cares so much about doesn’t like him. He feels like this’ll just get him and Chim back to square one.”

Eddie frowns. “That’s not – Jesus, do you drive him everywhere?”

“What?”

Eddie sighs frustratedly, shakes his head before letting it fall into his hands. “Nothing, just—” he looks back up at Buck. “It’s not like that. It’s not him, and it’s not you, it’s just – I need space, alright?”

Buck shakes his head. “I feel like all he _gives_ you is space—”

“From _you_ , alright?” And this time Eddie’s voice is a little sharper, fills the room cruelly, and Buck takes a step back from the shock. The world turns a bit further on its side.

“What?” Buck can’t mask the hurt in his voice, and he knows Eddie hears it, too, because there’s something like an apology in his eyes, but it doesn’t make it past his lips. “I thought you – I thought you weren’t mad at me.”

“I’m not,” Eddie says, and he sounds sincere. He stands up and walks towards Buck, but then pauses about three feet away from him, seemingly thinking better of it. “I’m not, Buck, okay?” He meets Buck’s gaze, but his words sound they’re coming through from underwater. “But I just – need to not be here right now.”

Buck swallows harshly. He doesn’t know how this isn’t about him when Eddie wants space _from_ him. He doesn’t know what he did that was so fucking wrong his best friend has decided that maybe, maybe the best place for him to be right now is anywhere else but around him, and maybe the best way to fix whatever’s wrong is by not talking to _him_ , and _he_ is the source of the problem. It’s him. It’s always been him.

Buck can’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t end up with him breaking down, and he’s not down to embarrass himself tonight, so all he does is nod tersely and step aside, allowing Eddie access to the door.

Eddie hesitates where he is, and he looks like he wants to reach out, wants to say something. He seems to think better of it, however, if the small shake of his head says anything. “I’ll call you, okay?”

Buck meets his gaze. “Okay.”

\--

He doesn’t call.

In fact, phone calls and visits between them get a little scarcer. Work interactions are kept to a minimum, confined to what is necessary to exchange during emergencies. Their casual conversations stop. Their back-and-forth stops. Their easy coexistence. It stops.

Buck can’t seem to fix it.

And here’s the thing: Buck’s learned that leaving him is easy. It’s as easy as someone claiming to love him and then coming back two years later completely wiped clean of him. It’s as easy as sitting with crutches at his feet and being reminded his life is expendable, and it’s not something just anyone will stick around for. It’s as easy as someone he’s known his entire life ignoring the instability of a childhood home because it’s easier to run away, it’s easier not to look back, it’s easier to leave him there.

It’s always been easy. No one sticks around for long. Hardly anyone comes back — Maddie’s an outlier, but they’re blood, and there’s a sort of obligation there, he’s sure. But the truth of it is that Evan Buckley has never been enough for someone to stick around for, and he now spends every single minute of his day making sure he’s _better_ , that he might be worth it, that he may be less exhausting at the end of the day, and maybe that way he can be a person that someone wants to _stay_ for.

But he can’t do that — he can’t _fix things_ — if he doesn’t even know what he did _wrong_.

It’s—

Frankly, it’s a little annoying. Because Buck thought — well, he thought he knew all of Eddie. Most of Eddie, anyway. Inside and out, like the back of his hand. His moods, his shifts, his expressions, and the reasons behind all of it. It’s — sad, a little bit, because there’s no earthly reason for him to be studying his best friend so closely all the time and he’ll deny it if someone points it out to him, but it’s hard not to. It’s hard not to.

Eddie’s become such a permanent fixture in his life. He and Christopher are the first people he spares a thought for in the morning, the last people he spares a thought for at night, the puzzle pieces Buck had been missing all his life that he’d just about given up on, made his peace with an unfinished visage. They fit, so perfectly, so openly, like they’d been made for him, when he needed a family the most. When the loneliness started to creep up on him, the uncertainty of the days ahead, the quiet whispers of self-doubt and aggression. When the world started looking a little less inviting day by day, Eddie and Christopher were like the map guiding him home. They were home. They _are_ home.

He’s — incomplete, somehow, without them. Without Christopher’s bright laughter. Without Eddie’s soft glances. Without their teasing, their comforting presence, their warm welcomes. Buck feels like a drifter, in the middle of the ocean, waiting for the wind to pick up. And the more Eddie avoids his gaze, the less likely it seems it will.

So if they leave him — if they _leave him —_ such a simple thing to do, up and leave Buck—

If he could just _know_ what he did wrong. He’d fix it in a heartbeat. He’s turned every single moment leading up to today that he’s interacted with Eddie over and over in his head and tried to find — something — but nothing is obvious, nothing stands out, and he wonders: if this _is_ about Albert, then why is _he_ bearing the brunt of the blow? Because he offered Albert a place to stay? It seems — unfair, and uncharacteristically petty of Eddie, so it just doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

There’s a suggestion, small and fragile, poking at the back of his head incessantly. It whispers, in its dark and mocking tone, that maybe Eddie doesn’t need a reason to want to leave. Maybe Eddie doesn’t need a reason to be angry. Maybe Eddie’s just reached the same milestone everyone in his life reaches when they realize it’s time to move on from him, and he’s doing it as delicately as he can, because there’s that, at least, to Eddie: he’s a kind, considerate person, and so he’d even be kind and considerate about leaving.

The world shifts a little more from then on, to the point where every step Buck takes feels like a chore, a Herculean attempt to stay upright as the slope steepens beneath his feet.

It doesn’t get any better.

Eddie doesn’t deny him anything, is the thing. Sometimes, Buck just really wants to see Christopher, and he knows Christopher wants to see him – so maybe it’s Chris Eddie doesn’t deny anything to, but either way, he never stops allowing him to see Christopher. The thing is, now Buck only sees Christopher when Eddie drops him off at his place, and then picks him promptly back up. Eddie doesn’t stay. The frequency of the visits are low. They’re the bare minimum, and that’s the thing about this whole situation: everything is the bare minimum, and not what Buck is used to, which is so, so much more. Enough to fill him with what he wants, what he needs. He realizes he’d been greedy, before, and now he’s experiencing withdrawal from the people he considers his family and it _hurts_.

And he’s so tired of hurting.

\--

It all comes to a head at a middle school.

It’s eight o’clock and the sun only set about fifteen minutes before, so the darkness of the sky blankets above them as the fire trucks drive towards the middle school. An accidental fire during a talent show, they said. A student went rogue at the last minute and used fire when they were explicitly instructed not to, and it caught on the curtains, and the rest, well.

Buck knows what to expect when he gets there. The gravity of the situation was dispatched, after all. Still, it’s never not a shock when they pull up and the flames consume an entire building like it’s nothing: like the structure of it has always been fleeting, temporary, made to break by one flame that caught wind.

“Jesus,” he hears Eddie mutter beside him. Hen looks somber.

“Yeah.”

“Do we know how many—”

“According to dispatch, half were evacuated before it got this bad,” Bobby replies from the front. “We operate under the assumption the rest of them are trapped inside.”

Buck swallows. “How many of them are kids, Cap?”

There’s a moment of silence between all of them.

“There were about thirty in the talent show,” he replies, sounding a little strained. “Head count outside is about twenty.”

Chim curses under his breath. This is going to be hard. For all of them.

Buck glances at Eddie, who’s staring straight ahead, looking rigid. If things were normal between them, Buck would reach out, offer him silent comfort. As it is, things aren’t normal between them, and still – still – like it’s some instinct, Buck bumps his shoulder with Eddie’s, causing the other to meet his gaze. Buck offers him a reassuring nod, and Eddie, after a moment wherein he looks surprised Buck even acknowledged him, offers him a small smile in return.

It’s more than he’s given Buck in weeks.

He takes the crumbs and makes a meal out of them. Takes that with him into the flames.

\--

It’s no surprise he ends up in Bobby’s office, at the end of it all.

Buck can hear muffled voices from downstairs, and though he can’t make out the words, the tone of them are sharp, cutting. Once in a while, his name comes through, clear as day, and he flinches every time, not eager to find out exactly what they could be discussing about him.

It’s not like this is the first time he’s done this. Though, in retrospect, that’s probably the problem. He knows he’s at fault here, he _knows_ , but his instincts are his own, and they’re instincts for a reason, aren’t they?

Besides. It’s not like they didn’t come with their own consequences. Buck doesn’t think he’ll be getting a good night’s sleep anytime soon, anyway.

“Walk it off,” Bobby’s voice looms from downstairs, and his tone is final. The silence that follows his words is deafening, and Buck wishes he could unhear it. Wishes he could undo it.

After a minute, Bobby walks into the office, closing the door quietly behind him. His arms are crossed over his chest defensively, like he expects Buck to start fighting immediately. Buck’s gaze doesn’t leave his feet, his heart at his throat.

He can’t stop thinking about the woman’s fingers slipping from his, the way she’d squeezed, weakly, like she’d wanted to try, but didn’t have it in her anymore. Buck remembers thinking he could stay longer. He could jump over the rubble, give the woman a fighting chance. If he did it in time, they could both make it out of there, a little burnt, a little bruised.

If he didn’t, they’d both be crushed by the weight of the building, and—

Buck closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Bobby finally says, and Buck doesn’t say anything. “I know that was tough on you.”

Buck frowns, opens his eyes to look up at his Captain. “I could have—”

Bobby holds up a hand. “That being said,” he interrupts. “It was irresponsible. You disobeyed a direct order.”

“There was someone _there_.”

“I get it,” Bobby says. “I understand that. But you know how this works, Buck. You evacuate the building. You regroup. If there’s a chance—”

“There was,” Buck chokes out. “There had to be.”

There’s another moment of silence. “Eddie was ready to run back in for you,” he tells him, and Buck’s eyes sting with tears. Eddie, _Eddie_ , and that’s where he lands, at the end of the day. If he’d taken the chance – if he’d climbed over the rubble, if he’d dug the woman out as quickly as he could, he risked death. He risked two lives instead of one. And that was fine. That was his job. That was his decision.

But.

He also risked never seeing Eddie again. Never seeing Christopher again. Maddie. His niece. He remembers hearing Bobby’s shouts crackling through the radio, ordering him out at once. He remembers, vaguely, Eddie’s voice coming through, some choice words for him, demanding he leave the building. He remembers the woman’s fingers twitching at her sides, breathing shallow, eyes closed. She couldn’t call for help – it was a miracle Buck had even spotted her in the first place. But she was _breathing_. Barely, but she _was_. And Buck—

Buck could only think about what he’d lose.

Bobby’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “If we hadn’t held him back, he would have, without a second thought. You understand you could have put him at risk, too? Your team?”

Buck swallows and clears his throat, looks to the side. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Bobby sighs. “You always are.” 

“Cap, I—”

“Eddie’ll take you home,” Bobby says, and Buck sighs. He doesn’t _need_ to go home. He’s still got a couple of hours left to his shift. But he doesn’t have it in him to fight this, not really. “He should be outside.”

Buck looks at Bobby. “I don’t think he’ll want to.”

Bobby holds Buck’s gaze steadily for a moment, before dropping his arms and making his way over to sit beside Buck. He reaches a hand over and squeezes Buck’s shoulder. “He insisted,” Bobby says, and that’s – something. “Buck.” Buck looks at him again. “I’m glad you’re okay. You know that, right? We all are.”

Buck swallows, and it feels like lead. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t ask what the commotion downstairs was about. He doesn’t think he wants to know.

He showers before changing, washes off the ash that paints his face, ignores the stiffness of his muscles. The warm water helps, slightly, but all he can think about is the feeling of leaving someone behind, watching the building collapse, the absolute _guilt_ eating away at him.

Logically, he knows the woman took her last breath seconds before the building collapsed. Buck _knows_ that he didn’t turn and run until he no longer saw the subtle rise and fall of her chest, until the option of bringing her out alive was no longer viable.

But he also knows that for a second, for a split second, he wasn’t willing to do everything in his power to get her out of there. For a second, he didn’t want to risk his own life for someone else’s.

And that’s—

That’s never been the case before.

He wonders, idly, if he can even do this job anymore. If he’s deserving of the title, if he can call himself a firefighter if he can’t put someone else’s life before his own. His job is about saving people, doing everything he _can_ to save people, and he—

He swallows the thought down. He needs to put it away, for now.

Buck walks towards the entrance, but before he can head out, Hen stops him with a hand to his arm. Buck meets her gaze.

She squeezes his arm. “You alright?”

Buck offers her the best smile he can muster at the moment – which can’t be that impressive, if he’s being honest with himself, but it’s an attempt, nevertheless. “Fine,” he says, though he knows his voice sounds tight. “Tired.”

Hen searches his gaze for a moment, before dropping her hand from his arm and nodding once. “We’re here,” she offers. “If you ever need to talk.”

Buck’s smile wavers, and he doesn’t trust himself to speak without his voice doing the same, so he simply returns her nod and continues making his way out front, silent, defeated.

He doesn’t expect Eddie to be there. Honestly, after taking his time to shower and to regroup, he doubts Eddie would have waited him out – especially since, despite the small moment they’d have in the firetruck, they haven’t looked at each other since they left the middle school, Eddie looking out the window the entire ride over, jaw clenched.

So it’s a little surprising, when he does find Eddie leaning against the wall outside, his own bag over his shoulder, arms crossed over his chest. He catches sight of Buck, who hesitates slightly, before he gestures towards the truck with his head and Buck takes that to mean what it always has: he follows.

The drive is – tense.

It’s tense in a way that it’s never been between them before, and although in the past Buck would try to cut through it by breaking the silence with an unimportant topic of conversation, this time there’s nothing he can think to say that’ll make it any better. He’s at a loss, drowning in his own thoughts, and for once, for once, the disquiet between the two of them isn’t the worst of his issues.

And yet somehow, _somehow_ , what’s eating at him, what’s making him dizzy, still involves Eddie.

Buck wonders, quietly, mundanely, as he looks out at the city he’s called home for years now, draped in darkness and populated by people who thrive in the light: if he lets himself fall, if he stops fighting the incline, will he end up where he’s afraid to, far from the people he so desperately wants to hold on to?

Would it matter?

It takes Buck a minute to realize they’re not headed to his loft; the route they’re on is taking them directly to Eddie’s neighborhood, and something stirs in the pit of Buck’s stomach. It’s probably the first real thing he’s felt outside of this overwhelming sense of shame and grief, but he can’t tell if it’s a good sort of stirring or a nervous sort of stirring. Eddie hasn’t yelled at him yet, which could prove both a good sign and a bad sign, but Buck’s willing to take a chance on _good_ , if they’re going to Eddie’s place instead of Buck’s.

Then again, Buck’s learned to keep his expectations where his feet drag.

Eddie pulls into the driveway two minutes later, turning off the engine and removing the keys from the ignition. He doesn’t move for a moment, doesn’t look over at Buck, even though Buck’s sure, he’s absolutely positive, he can tell Buck is looking at him, studying him closely. He refuses to get out of this truck and follow him into the house unless given explicit permission – he’s not above sleeping in this truck.

Eddie glances over at him and his lips part, looking like they want to say something for a moment, before they shut once more, a little tersely. He opens the door and steps out of the truck, slamming it shut behind him. Buck watches as Eddie makes his way around the truck and just when he thinks the other’s about to walk inside his house, he instead finishes the loop and ends up at the passenger side, where he opens the door for Buck.

Buck takes the hint.

He follows Eddie inside, and he almost misses Carla on the living room couch, flipping through the television on mute. She glances back and offers them a big grin, which immediately disappears when she looks between the two of them. Buck can imagine what sort of picture they paint – Eddie, a stoic expression on his face, and Buck, feeling a foot shorter than he is, shoulders slumped uncomfortably.

“Everything okay?” Carla asks, standing from the couch.

Eddie nods. “Fine,” he replies, then clears his throat, as if he’s remembering none of this is Carla’s fault. “Christopher okay?”

Carla eyes them dubiously for a second longer, before nodding at Eddie’s question. “He’s been asleep for the past two hours,” she replies. “Barely made a fuss about it.”

Eddie seems to sag the slightest bit, and Buck assumes it must be in relief – despite everything that happened today, despite only one fatality ( _Buck’s fault Buck’s fault Buck’s fault_ ), they were still privy to several children, not far from Christopher’s age, huddled in fear, tears rolling over the backs of their hands, danger looming. Buck can’t imagine how much it must have affected Eddie – he can only assume it’s nothing near how much it affected him.

“Thanks, Carla,” Eddie replies. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Carla purses her lips, looking like she’s deciding whether or not she wants to say anything else, but seems to decide against it when she replies, “I’ll be here at noon.”

She hugs Eddie goodbye and then stops in front of Buck. Her hand comes up to rest softly against the side of his face and she smiles at him encouragingly.

“You’re a good man, Buck,” she says quietly, and it sounds like a reminder, but his ears register it as a lie.

Still.

He hugs Carla back when she wraps her arms around him, then watches as she leaves the house, closes the door behind her quietly.

There’s silence once more.

Until:

“Come on,” Eddie says, and Buck’s gaze snaps to him in surprise. “I’ll meet you in my room.”

Buck furrows his brows and wants to press the matter, but Eddie’s already walking towards the hallway. Buck sees him turn the knob of Christopher’s door gently and walk inside – and Buck allows him that privacy, figures he probably needs it more than anyone right now.

He drags his feet to Eddie’s room and opens the door, turns the light switch on. Eddie’s room is smaller than Christopher’s – it’s not the first time Buck’s noticed this, of course, but it always manages to tug at his heart strings, because he knows for a fact that this is one of the smaller, more insignificant sacrifices Eddie’s made for his son. Giving up the bigger bedroom doesn’t seem like a big thing, and it shouldn’t be, but Buck knows more than anyone that it’s just the beginning of what Eddie would do for his kid. It’s the beginning of what Eddie would do for just about anyone he cares about in his life.

Buck hates knowing this, because it’s so easy to want, then, to be someone Eddie cares about.

And he is. He knows he is. But—

When Buck thought about leaving. When Buck thought about the end, all he could think of. All he could even begin to panic about—

A one-track mind has never seemed like such a bad thing, in the past. Now, it threatens to overtake his entire being and allow him no more breaths without pain in his chest, knowing that every second he gives up to the clock is another second he is surrendering control to the intruder in his bloodstream, carrying an emotion leaps and bounds from what Buck ever believed _love_ to be.

And there is nowhere to go, he realizes, but headfirst.

He’s standing in the middle of the room when Eddie makes his way inside. The door shuts behind the two of them, and Buck doesn’t dare look Eddie in the eye. He doesn’t know what his gaze will convey. Doesn’t feel up to schooling his expression, not in the middle of a whirlwind.

Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. “Come here,” he instructs, and at this, Buck _has_ to look up, because what.

“What?”

Eddie holds up a small, green tube. Looks like an ointment of some kind. “Come here.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, and Eddie sighs deeply. Seemingly accepting Buck isn’t moving, he steps closer to him and twists open the lid on the tube, squeezing it lightly and letting some of the ointment fall onto his index finger. His hand is slow when reaching for the side of Buck’s face, and Buck can’t do anything but stand still, helpless, as the coolness of the ointment makes contact with what he assumes is a scrape across his cheek, one he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t felt until now.

Eddie’s touch is gentle, eyes focused, expression guarded as he rubs at the affected area. Buck’s eyes flutter closed, both at the relief the ointment provides and at the sheer tenderness threatening his racing heart. He concentrates on counting his breaths, spacing them out evenly, else he’ll give into having the wind knocked out of him, by how beautiful Eddie looks up close, by how desperate Buck is to reach out and touch, too.

“ _Vitacilina_ ,” Eddie mutters, and Buck cracks his eyes open slightly.

“Sorry?”

“The ointment,” he explains, squeezing some more out onto his fingertip and now bringing his hand to the bottom of Buck’s chin. The touch is gentle there, too. “My Abuela swears by it. Says it’s better than Neosporin,” he offers Buck a small smile. “Even though it’s the same thing.”

“Oh,” Buck says intelligently, and despite it only being one syllable, the word still comes out broken.

Eddie finishes on his chin, moves to the top of his brow. Buck has to grasp at his pants desperately, in order to not do anything stupid like reach out, pull him closer.

Eddie doesn’t meet his gaze, focused instead on his task at hand. Buck resists the urge to touch, but he’s having a harder time now resisting the urge to look. To drink him in. Every inch of Eddie’s face, Buck realizes as his eyes sweep over it, is an inch he’s memorized. Studied carefully and locked away, to be cherished later. The crinkles at the edges of his eyes. The dip of his cheekbones. The curve of his jaw.

Eddie steps back with an exhale, placing the cap back onto the tube and walking towards the bedside table, setting it down gently. He stares at it for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out what to do now, and it seems he decides turning around and sitting on the bed is the only thing he’s capable of doing, because it’s the choice he makes.

Buck continues to stand where he is, afraid that if he moves, the temporary truce they’ve called here will vanish.

Eddie speaks first.

“You were right behind me,” he says, and the tone isn’t accusatory, like Buck thought it’d be. It’s resigned. It’s a little broken. “Then I turned around and – you weren’t anymore.”

Buck looks at his hands. “We missed her,” he replies. “I had to – I had to _try_ —”

Even after Bobby had called it. _The building’s unstable_ , he’d reported. _Evacuate immediately_.

Eddie rubs at his eyes tiredly with his fists. His elbows dig into his knees, and Buck, like always, simply watches him.

“You can’t—” Eddie is quiet for a moment. “Buck, I have lost — a lot, the past two years, and—”

Buck averts his gaze. He’s aware.

“You—” Eddie sounds frustrated all of a sudden, like the words keep escaping him. “It’s our job. I get it. It is our job to put ourselves in danger for the sake of other people. We signed up for it. We love it. I know you can’t think about doing anything else.”

“Yeah,” Buck croaks stupidly.

“But there is a line,” Eddie’s voice breaks at the helm of that sentence, causing Buck to look at him again. “You can’t just stop fighting,” he insists, and finally meets Buck’s eyes again. Buck stands awkwardly where he is, unsure if sitting on Eddie’s bed now is really appropriate when he looks so — disappointed. “You were in there and I wasn’t and the building was ready to come down and for a moment I thought — I thought you weren’t coming out.” He pauses. “I thought you’d made your choice.”

Buck swallows thickly, glances at the digital clock sitting on Eddie’s bedside table. God, he’s such an old man. “I did make my choice.”

Eddie’s gaze turns sharp in an instant. Buck takes a deep breath.

“We have a job to do,” Buck bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep his voice from shaking. “And as long – as long as there is a chance for the person we’re trying to save, Eddie, then it’s our job to try and save them. Because we’re – _we’re_ their chance. We’re their _last_ chance. And—”

Buck brings the palm of his hands to press against his stinging eyes. “She had a chance,” he rasps. “It was slim, yeah, but it was still a fucking chance, but the second I realized—” he sobs brokenly. “The second I realized that taking that chance could prevent me from coming home to you and Christopher, I made my choice.”

There is silence. Buck feels his body burn with grief. “What kind of firefighter does that make me?” he asks, voice both fiery and wavering. “I – I didn’t give her the chance because – because I was selfish, because I wanted to see you two again, because the thought of dying for once was – was overwhelming and terrifying and I – I couldn’t do it.” He wipes angrily at the tears now flowing freely from his eyes. “What kind of selfish asshole—”

And then he can’t speak anymore, because Eddie’s right there, and his lips are pressed against Buck’s, and it clicks.

It finally clicks.

He’s been off-kilter his entire life, and suddenly the world is upright, and Eddie tastes like what finding solid ground feels like. His feet step one in front of the other and their paths are parallel and for once, _for once_ , Buck feels like he’s walking towards something.

Eddie’s hands are cradling Buck’s face between them, grasping at his hair, and Buck can do nothing but fall into the kiss, hands fisting desperately around Eddie’s shirt, keeping him in place. He thinks, maybe, that walking on an incline may not have been such a bad thing, if he’d’ve found his way here, eventually. If falling headfirst down a slope sent him crash-landing into this very moment, he’d do it over and over and over again.

As it is, the ground has never felt so steady underneath him.

He doesn’t know how long they kiss for. He feels like maybe it’s a couple of minutes, but the minutes feel like seconds, like _not enough_ , and Buck wonders if any amount of Eddie will ever be enough, really.

Eddie pulls away and kisses his jaw, his cheek, his temple, pulls him into a desperate hug that Buck melts into, returns without a second thought.

“Thank you,” Eddie mutters, voice filled to the brim with emotion difficult for Buck to categorize. “Thank you for coming home.”

Buck pauses, then shakes his head into Eddie’s shoulder. “I should have—”

“You’re human,” Eddie snaps. “You’re human and humans are allowed to be selfish and you and I both know that there was no chance. None that wouldn’t have ended with both of you dead under a pile of rubble and then—” Eddie chokes on a sob. “And then what would I have done, huh? You _asshole_. You have no business being so selfless ninety-nine percent of the time and yet you are, so if you’re thinking selfish, then it’s me. _I_ get to be selfish, too. I get to want you to live.”

Buck’s tears haven’t stopped so much as subsided, but they’re threatening to take agency of his entire face again as he listens to Eddie’s words. He holds on tighter to him, like holding on to him will somehow erase the rest of the night, like holding on to him will somehow help him believe his words, like they’ll crawl onto his skin and find truth.

It takes him a moment to gather the courage to try and pull away, but the gesture is pointless – Eddie simply holds onto him tighter, shaking his head.

“No, just—” he sighs into the skin on Buck’s neck, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. “Just a little longer.”

Buck doesn’t object.

Eventually, Eddie pulls away, but his lips find Buck’s once more, and the kisses they share are soft, superficial, like they’re both worried if they push for more, the other will disappear. Like the further into this they walk, the harder it’ll be to walk back.

Eddie leads him towards the bed, and Buck is helpless when he’s pushed to sit on it, when his back is pressed against the mattress, Eddie chasing his lips as he goes. He’s helpless when they roll over, hold each other side-by-side, Eddie’s hand sneaking underneath his shirt, the touch of his skin on Buck’s eliciting a shiver, stomach hardening as it flutters.

“Wait,” Buck mutters against Eddie’s lips, and Eddie immediately stops, breaks away. His hair is tousled and his face is flushed, lips swollen and pink, and Buck almost forgets what he was going to say, but there’s a certain sight to Eddie’s eyes that Buck knows means he, too, knows why they’ve stopped.

Buck catches his breath, wills his heart rate to slow. “You were—” he swallows. “You’ve been—”

“I know,” Eddie replies quietly, and he sounds immediately regretful, apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“Well?” he raises an eyebrow, ignoring the apology for now – he’s not sure what Eddie’s apologizing about, after all, and he’d rather know that, first. “Are you gonna tell me why?”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah,” he brings a hand up to rub at the side of his face. “It wasn’t about you, you know that, right?”

Buck scoffs lightly. “You avoided _me_. You snapped at _me_. You needed space from _me_.” He meets Eddie’s gaze evenly. “Starts to feel a little personal that way.”

“I—” Eddie exhales sharply through his nose, looking frustrated, but for once: Buck can tell the frustration is aimed at himself, and not towards Buck. “It was stupid. This whole thing was stupid. Of me,” he amends quickly. “I was selfish and – a brat.”

Buck can’t help the twitch of his lips. “A brat, huh?”

Eddie takes note of this and groans slightly, rolling onto his back. He brings his hands to his forehead, holding it like he’s trying to hold it in place. It takes him a couple of seconds to continue. “I’ll admit that maybe I was — a little jealous.”

Buck’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Jealous?” It takes Buck a moment to catch up. “Of _Albert_?”

Eddie shrugs, though his cheeks turn a little pink and his hands fall from his forehead to his eyes, covering his gaze. “He was new and shiny and you liked him. There was the shameless flirting—”

“He’s a _kid_! He can’t even legally drink yet!”

“I didn’t say it was reasonable,” Eddie mutters darkly, sliding his hands down his face. “I just — you were mine for so long and suddenly I had to share and — you weren’t even technically mine, not really, just felt that way and it’s when I saw you pulling away that I realized,” Eddie sighs loudly and turns on his side again, meets Buck’s gaze. “I realized I’d done the dumbest thing imaginable.”

Buck raises an eyebrow. “Which was?”

Eddie’s fingertips reach for Buck’s lips, tracing them softly. “I’d fallen for your idiot ass.”

Buck chokes on a laugh. “God, you’re romantic.”

Eddie huffs a chuckle, brings their foreheads together and he strokes the side of Buck’s face gently with his thumb. “Sorry. Been a while.”

Buck shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Eddie’s smile wavers. “I’m really, really sorry, Buck.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I won’t,” Eddie says, voice even. “And you shouldn’t want me to.” He holds Buck’s chin in his hand, speaks to him directly, gaze never allowing Buck’s to look away. “I let my insecurities get the best of me and I hurt you. I keep hurting you and every time it’s because I miss you and that’s just – the stupidest thing. I miss you, and I fear losing you, and it’s like I just try to push you away when I just – I just want you so desperately to stay with me.”

Buck swallows through a knot in his throat. “That’s all I want from you, too,” he admits quietly. “For you to stay.”

Eddie’s gaze searches his own, then he makes a soft noise. “Jesus, Buck,” he mutters, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose. “Always. Always.”

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s just so desperately, stupidly in love, but Buck believes him.

Eddie kisses him gently. “I’ll spend however long you let me trying to make it up to you.”

“You don’t—”

“Just,” Eddie interrupts with a sigh. “I do.”

Buck is quiet for a bit, letting Eddie process what he needs to as his gaze rakes over Buck’s face. It’s terrifying, being so open, so vulnerable, allowing another person to search every part of your features and learn the nuances of your expression, but Buck realizes Eddie’s allowed him to do this all the years they’ve been friends: how else would he have known the subtle shifts in his mood, the distaste he could hide from every single other person save for him?

That Eddie – quiet, pensive Eddie – has shown his cards and his heart and his entire self to Buck, so easily, so readily, baffles him, catches him a little off guard, but Buck doesn’t expect to have this and not be grateful for it. He’ll be grateful for it for the rest of his life, whether it sticks or not.

“Okay,” Buck says. “I accept your apology. But,” he runs a hand through Eddie’s hair. “I’m not the only one you’ve got to apologize to.”

Eddie sighs. “I know,” he groans. “Can’t I send him a text or something?”

“I’m sorry?” Buck teases. “Hiding behind technology, Edmundo? I’m appalled.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Been hanging around you too long, clearly.”

“Such a shame that’s not gonna change.”

Eddie’s lips twitch. “Yeah. Shame.”

Buck kisses Eddie’s smile. “Just make sure he knows it wasn’t about him, alright?”

Eddie’s hand slides down the side of Buck’s body, settles on his waist. “Alright,” he says, then pulls Buck closer to him. “Stay?”

Buck closes his eyes, allows himself to be enveloped in this feeling, and echoes the word Eddie had made a promise to him with: “Always.”

\--

Chris finds them tangled up in each other the next morning, (fully clothed, thank God) and for a moment Buck panics – this is probably something they should ease him into, not accidentally blind him with first thing in the morning – but he doesn’t seem to find anything out of the ordinary with the situation.

“Buck!” He grins brightly at him, like he’s so happy to see him, which is – God. The Diaz boys are his favorite people in the world.

Buck detangles himself from Eddie, who only then realizes his kid’s walked inside the room and begins to wake up, and he sits up on the bed, smiling right back at Chris. “Hey, buddy,” he greets, and Chris makes his way over to Buck for a hug. Buck rubs Christopher’s back, and he didn’t – he didn’t know just how much yesterday had affected him, in terms of seeing those kids, until this particular kid has his arms wrapped around his neck affectionately, alive, well, secure. “Good morning,” he mutters through a sea of emotion.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Chris says, and Buck has to keep his mouth shut in order to concentrate on not sobbing. “And that I won’t have cereal for breakfast this morning.”

This startles a laugh out of Buck, and he feels the bed’s weight shift behind him as Eddie presumably sits up.

“I’m right here,” Eddie pipes up, feigning offense, and Chris giggles. He pulls back from Buck, and Eddie drags himself off the bed around Buck to kneel in front of his son on the floor. “What did we say about knocking, huh?”

Chris gives him a look. “I did knock,” he says. “I knocked several times.”

Eddie and Buck exchange a glance. “Ah,” Buck shrugs. “Can neither confirm nor deny, but I’m willing to bet he’s telling the truth.”

“Okay,” Eddie sighs. “Go set the table, yeah? We’ll be right out.”

Chris looks over at Buck. “Are you making pancakes, Buck?”

Buck smiles. “Sure, buddy. I’ll make pancakes.”

“Yes,” Chris whoops victoriously, then turns and walks out of the room towards the kitchen.

Buck looks at Eddie, worriedly. “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t hear him knocking—”

“Buck,” Eddie holds up a hand as he stands from the floor. “I know, alright? I didn’t hear him either.” He stares contemplatively at the door. “Did he seem – surprised to you?”

Buck shakes his head. “Maybe he just – didn’t understand.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “He’s old enough to understand,” he mutters, but it’s quiet enough so that it feels like it’s mostly for himself. He shakes himself out of it, turns back to Buck. “I’ll talk to him later,” he says, then kneels back down between Buck’s legs, placing his hands on either thigh. Buck’s heart jumps to his throat – he wonders if he’ll ever get over how proximity to Eddie feels now, like an intoxicating high he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

“We could talk to him together,” he offers, and Eddie smiles.

“We could,” he agrees. “But I think maybe this is something I have to do alone, first.”

Buck nods, understanding. “Of course.”

Eddie starts rubbing Buck’s legs, back and forth, back and forth, almost like he’s subconsciously offering reassurance. “You okay?”

Buck leans his forehead to rest against Eddie’s. “Fine. You?”

Eddie’s gaze softens. “Never better.”

He grins. “On the same page, then.”

Eddie brings his hands to either side of Buck’s face and leans in to kiss him softly. “Sounds about right.”

Buck wraps his fingers gently around Eddie’s wrists and squeezes. “No offense,” he whispers. “But my favorite Diaz is waiting for me to make pancakes in the kitchen.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Buck makes a sympathetic face. “Yeah, sorry.”

Eddie smirks and brushes his lips over Buck’s, then drags them across his jaw before pressing a soft kiss behind his ear. “That’s fair,” he mutters against his skin. Buck shivers slightly, hands sliding down Eddie’s sides.

Eddie pulls away and shoots Buck a shit-eating grin, standing back up. “Come on, then,” Eddie says. “Don’t wanna keep the little man waiting.”

Buck blinks up at him, then huffs a laugh as he stands up and wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him closer. “You’re _actually_ the worst.”

Eddie laughs and pulls away, but squeezes Buck’s wrist before walking out the door. “And yet, here you are,” he calls back as he walks to the kitchen. Buck watches from the room as Eddie beams at the sight of his kid, asks him what he thinks he’s doing with the good forks, and Buck feels his heart swell a thousand times its size in his chest.

“Yeah,” he says to himself. “Here I am.”

\--

Buck tells Maddie, who cries.

“Maddie—” Buck tries uncomfortably, holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m just so happy for you two. And, like, the hormones. But you deserve this, Evan, I’m serious,” she sniffles. “I love you so much.”

Buck pushes open the door to his loft. “I love you, too, Mads.”

“Telling Howie’s gonna be fun, at least,” she says. “He kept insisting neither of you would ever own up to it.”

Buck gapes, closing the door behind him and finally grabbing the phone with his hand again. “That’s – okay, that’s not fair.”

“My money was always on you,” Maddie assures him, and Buck laughs.

“Just – I’ll call you later, alright? I gotta pick up some clean clothes before my shift.”

“Okay. Good luck. Be safe, okay?”

“Always am.”

Maddie snorts. “Liar.”

They hang up, and Buck spots Albert sitting at the dining table, chewing on some cereal. Buck waves, and Albert waves back emphatically.

“How was last night?”

Buck coughs into his hand and feels his face warm. He knows Albert doesn’t know anything, and he’s just asking to be polite, but. “Fine,” he says. “Actually, I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me to the firehouse for a bit.”

Albert frowns. “Why?”

Buck smiles. “Eddie wants to talk to you.”

Albert’s expressions turns a little worried. “Is he gonna—”

“Spoiler alert,” Buck interrupts before he can spiral. “He’s gonna apologize.”

Albert relaxes. “Oh,” he says. “Okay, then. Sure.”

Buck laughs. “We leave in an hour.”

\--

By the time he arrives at the firehouse, the rest of the team knows.

They’re still waiting for Buck to arrive to confirm, though. They’re all standing against the kitchen counter – Bobby, Hen and Chim – arms crossed and expressions studious. Eddie’s sitting at the table, mindlessly chewing on some crackers, and he looks up at Buck’s greeting to the rest of the team, smiling.

“What’s with the soldier line-up?” Buck asks, Albert trailing behind him, looking just as confused.

“Is it true?” Hen asks, and Buck’s brows rise.

“Is what true, Hen?”

“It happened last night?”

Buck glances at Eddie, who shrugs.

Buck sighs. “Yes.”

“Hah!” Hen clasps her hands energetically, voice victorious. “Pay up,” she holds up her hands and waves at Bobby and Chim, who both look a little put-out. Chim more than Bobby, but Buck has a feeling Bobby’s perfected his poker face after years on the job.

“I never should have said anything,” Chim says, shaking his head, slapping a fifty-dollar bill into Hen’s palm. “Would have been a lot more fun to see you two figure it out for yourselves.”

“Oh, please,” Hen rolls her eyes, taking Bobby’s money next. “We would have figured it out as soon as they got here. Just look at them,” she gestures between Buck and Eddie, who, if Buck is being honest, probably look as normal as they ever have. “They’re practically glowing.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, like he thinks that’s bullshit, but he doesn’t get to say anything before Albert interjects.

“What’s happening?”

They all turn to Albert as if they’d only just realized he’d arrived.

“Hey,” Chim says. “What are you doing here?”

Albert shifts his weight. “Uh—”

“He’s here to talk to me,” Eddie proclaims, standing up and dusting his hands of cracker dust. “Come on.”

Eddie walks over to Albert and pats him on the shoulder, leading him towards the couches. The rest of them watch them go, and though they’re not _too_ far from them, the degree of separation feels much greater when Buck is left alone with the rest.

He looks back at his team.

“I’m offended I wasn’t a part of my own betting pool,” Buck says. “I would have gotten my shit together a lot sooner, you know.”

“Don’t think I didn’t think about it,” Hen says, and Bobby walks over to Buck, squeezes his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks, and Bobby glances over towards Eddie, who’s now taking a seat next to Albert.

“Yeah,” he replies, and he means it. He meets Bobby’s gaze. “I’m okay.”

Bobby nods. He hesitates visibly for a moment, before saying, “I’m happy for you two.” He pauses. “I also need you to sign some paperwork when you have the chance. But mostly, I’m happy for you.”

Buck laughs. “Got it,” he nods. “I’ll let him know.” He smiles sincerely. “Thanks, Cap.”

Bobby pats him on the back once, before he heads back towards his office.

Buck takes the seat Eddie left behind at the table, grabbing idly at the cracker he left half-eaten and shoving it in his mouth. Chim walks up to Buck, cup of coffee in his hands, and he watches Albert and Eddie on the couch for a moment.

“Is that something I should worry about?” Chim asks, and Buck shakes his head.

“Nah,” he replies, and for once, he’s glad to know he means it. “They’re good.”

Chim hums in acknowledgment and pats Buck’s shoulder before heading downstairs.

Buck, for his part, continues to watch as they talk, picking at the napkin in front of him nervously. It seems like a quiet, reserved sort of conversation, and once in a while Eddie will glance back at Buck with a soft smile on his face. It makes Buck feel warm all over, and it’s obvious enough so that when Hen walks by, she barely spares a look at him yet still quips an easy, “Okay, lover boy,” before making her way downstairs behind Chim.

Buck watches as finally, both Albert and Eddie stand, and though Eddie looks like he’s gonna go for a friendly pat on the back, Albert goes in for the entire hug. Eddie looks a little embarrassed, but hugs him back awkwardly, before Albert pulls away and smiles at him. He turns to Buck and offers him a thumbs-up, and Buck can do no more but laugh and return the gesture.

Albert leaves, and Eddie walks back to where Buck is sitting at the table. He takes a seat next to Buck, then proceeds to wrap their ankles together, out of sight.

Buck bumps his shoulder gently. “Everything good?”

Eddie’s pinky brushes Buck’s as he reaches for a cracker. “Everything’s perfect.”

\--

The changes in their relationship from then on, like most things involving Eddie, are subtle.

It’s the casual press of their knees together when they’re sitting in a group setting, like a quiet reminder that they’re there. It’s the brush of their fingertips inside the firetruck, the small, private smiles exchanged across the room. It’s the length of their embraces extending by a couple of seconds, breathing each other in after a tough call.

It’s Eddie reaching down to kiss Buck’s forehead when he needs a second to himself sitting in the locker room as the rest of the team filters out, his hand holding the side of Buck’s face as he does. The reassurance that he’s there, if Buck needs him, and he’ll be there, when he decides he does.

And he always does.

It’s Buck bursting at the seams when Eddie casually wipes at something on his face with the most adorable furrow between his brows, or the way he factors Buck’s presence into every plan without asking anymore, or the way Buck will catch him looking at him when he’s doing something as mundane as putting away the dishes, and how he won’t look embarrassed when he’s caught anymore.

It’s the way they don’t say _I love you_ , not yet, but Buck hears it anyway, when Eddie frowns in concern and asks if he’s planning on wearing a sweater outside today, when he rolls his eyes emphatically but lets Buck have the better half of the pastry they’re sharing, when he lets Buck lay his head on his lap while they watch television on the couch, idly running his fingers through Buck’s hair.

What’s less subtle is the mingling of their breaths at night, their bodies shielded by the darkness around them, pressed against the mattress and not knowing where he starts and Eddie begins. The way Buck discovers all the different ways Eddie can breathe his name, all the new sounds he can coerce from the back of his throat, what his skin tastes like on a hot night.

Christopher barely feels a shift in the dynamic, and Buck has to wonder if that’s because there barely is one. He and Eddie hardly act any different around each other, save for maybe some more proximity, stolen kisses in private, a small acknowledgment of their presence. Either way, Christopher takes to Buck being at the Diaz household a lot more often in stride, often stealing more of his time than Eddie’s.

And it’s hard, sometimes. Not being with Eddie, because that’s easy. It’s as easy as breathing, but sometimes breathing is painful, and sometimes Buck get nervous, and insecure, and he says something he thinks might be the last straw for Eddie, or he _won’t_ say something because he doesn’t want to come off like he’s whining, like he’s thinking about only himself.

Eddie does his best, these days, to reassure him. To remind him he’s not going anywhere, Christopher isn’t going anywhere. These days, Eddie will apologize to Buck over and over again, despite Buck saying he doesn’t _have_ to anymore, but Eddie doesn’t seem satisfied. He’ll apologize, and he promises Buck can tell him anything, anything at all, and Eddie will be happy to listen.

“Anything that bothers you,” Eddie tells him honestly, quietly. “I will take and I will make it my burden, too. We’ll work through it together.” He’ll kiss him. “No more running away, no more pushing away. We’re in this together now, Buck.”

And Buck isn’t used to hearing words like these and believing them, to the point where he’ll hear them, sometimes, in place of the whispers that used to taunt him about his self-worth, about whether or not he was exhausting, about people leaving him and leaving him and leaving him. Instead, he’ll hear Eddie’s voice, melodic as ever, promising to take his burdens as his own, promising to stay.

So, when the day is hard, Eddie holds him steady. And Buck lets him.

\--

They dropped Christopher at a friend’s house, despite Buck’s insistence that Eddie let him ask Athena to do a background check on the family. Eddie reminded him that he couldn’t distrust every nine-year-old kid he meets, and Buck had muttered something along the lines of “fucking watch me” under his breath.

To ease his nerves, Eddie suggests they walk the trail around the park that connects directly to the Diaz neighborhood, the Californian winter finally starting to hit, which means it feels a little bit like spring.

The trail is man-made, a cemented path around the busy park and behind some trees, and once in a while they’ll have to navigate around dog shit, but all in all it’s a peaceful walk, all things considered.

Eddie’s telling Buck about the time Christopher asked him about Achilles, a subject Eddie has no real knowledge of, when they hear someone shout: “Watch out!”

Buck’s reflexes come in handy as his hands come up to catch a volleyball coming straight for his face like an old friend. He laughs in relief, lowering his hands, and watches as a young woman, maybe two or three years younger than him, runs up to them, a little out of breath.

“Oh, thanks so much,” she says, holding her hands out for the ball. Buck hands it to her easily. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Hey, no harm no foul,” Buck says. “Though I do think that’s out of bounds for your friend over there.”

The woman laughs heartily, which makes Buck smile. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to let her know,” her smile, then turns a little coyer than kind, and she adjusts the volleyball so that it’s between her waist and her arm. “Or, you know, you could come let her know yourself.”

Buck blinks, then laughs a little sheepishly. “Aha,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe not right now.”

“Sure,” the girl flips her hair over her shoulder and smiles, and Buck knows this move. Normally, he’d be all over this move, but considering he’s incredibly smitten by the man standing next to him, at the moment he just feels uncomfortable. “Why don’t you and your friend come check out our games sometime?”

Before Buck can reply, Eddie chimes in, “Boyfriend.”

Both the girl and Buck look over at Eddie in surprise.

The girl glances between the two of them, and something like embarrassment overtakes her expression. “Wow,” she laughs brokenly. “I’m — so sorry, that’s so embarrassing.”

“Hey, you didn’t know,” Buck shrugs and smiles easily at her. “It’s fine.”

The girl closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then offers them a sheepish grin as she opens her eyes again. “I’m gonna go over there and die of embarrassment, thanks.”

“You don’t have to—” But she’s already walking away before Buck can finish, and he turns to Eddie, who looks proud of himself.

“You cannot blame her for not knowing,” Buck points out, and Eddie crosses his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t,” he says. “That’s why I told her.”

“Okay,” Buck agrees slowly. “Because it’s not exactly like we act like boyfriends out in public, you know.”

Eddie frowns.

“So it’s not her fault,” he presses. “I think we were confused as partners more often _before_ we actually were.”

“Alright, Buck,” Eddie sighs. “I got it. I won’t be mean to pretty women.”

Buck laughs, shoves him lightly. “Dumbass.”

Eddie remains pensive for the rest of their walk, brows furrowed in concentration. Buck keeps glancing over at him, giving him time to figure out what he needs to, and it’s easy, to keep the conversation light and one-sided as he does so. He’s in the middle of telling Eddie about the time Maddie decided chocolate and vanilla were secretly the same flavor when Eddie reaches out and laces their fingers together.

Buck blinks down at their intertwined hands for a second, swinging slightly as they walk now, and then he looks up at Eddie. A sly grin slowly spreads across Buck’s lips at Eddie’s slightly pink cheeks.

“Shut up,” Eddie warns, and Buck tuts.

“Didn’t say anything.”

“Good,” Eddie coughs, but he squeezes Buck’s hand, and Buck squeezes his back.

Then Buck continues with the story, acutely aware of Eddie’s hand in his for the rest of their walk around the park trail, and he’s so enthralled by the person beside him, the person that stays, the person who made his other favorite person in the world, the person he chooses to come home to every day, the person that makes him feel like he belongs somewhere, like he’ll always belong somewhere – that he never notices the slight incline of the cemented path they’re taking back home.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ceethru) if you wanna come hang out. i’ll be the clown pretending i’m not overly-invested in this ship and like i’m not disappointed when they keep qUEER BAITING MY ASS. i'm also on [tumblr](https://juilawicker.tumblr.com/), but like, barely.


End file.
